Please don’t bring your small children to the grocery store. I’m serious. I understand that they’ve ruined your life, but heaven forbid anyone else try to enjoy their time out.
Keep them at home. Get a babysitter or a cage or something. I don’t want to see your obnoxious brats throwing canned soup down the aisles. I don’t want to hear them fussing and screaming for a brand new Barbie doll. I definitely don’t want to discover their used diapers in the bathroom stalls.
There are no exceptions. If you think your son or daughter has never misbehaved, you probably have the worst one.
When I was a kid, I was terrible. I hated shopping so much. All I wanted to do was stay at home and play with my Power Rangers. As soon as we’d get to the store, I’d deliberately piss off my mother by running in and out of those self-opening doors. And once that got boring, I’d start pushing grocery carts at the doors. It got violent. One time, I almost killed a guy.
It didn’t stop there. Being the chunky child that I was, I often threw tantrums for Chips Ahoy cookies. I’d sneak all sorts of tasty snacks and candies into my mother’s shopping cart. On occasion, she would buy me treats without even realizing it.
Looking back, there was only one thing that kept me calm and quiet at Walmart. And no, it wasn’t duct tape or Ritalin. My kryptonite was those automatic coupon dispensers.
The Automatic Coupon Dispenser was the greatest toy ever invented. Kids raced to those things like June bugs to Bug Zappers. When I was a youngin’, I’d be absolutely mesmerized by those blinking red boxes of splendor and wonder. I’d rip out coupons like they were confetti.
Unfortunately, as the years went by, the dispensers got smarter. No, they weren’t quite at Skynet level, but speaking from experience, they were definitely smarter than a fifth grader. Using motion sensors and timers, they no longer dispensed multiple coupons at once.
I was devastated. I was destroyed. I needed that extra coupon. I needed that extra twenty cents off of Rogaine. No, I wasn’t a balding twelve year old. I just wanted the satisfaction of pulling that damn coupon.
Oh well. At least I still had my previous coupons. And trust me, I had quite the collection. My favorite was a coupon for a free “female enhancement product.” To this day, I have no idea what it was supposed to enhance. And frankly, I don’t want to know.
Clearly my relationship with automatic coupon dispensers was a tad unsettling. Why was I so obsessed with them? Why did we share such a strong connection? Perhaps I was a coupon dispenser in a past life.
That would explain everything. Yup. In my past life, I was an automatic coupon dispenser. I spent my days hiding in grocery store aisles. As families came by, I’d unsuspectingly flash them and shoot my load. Kids loved it. They’d get pleasure from having something to play with.
Wow… that sounds terrible. On second thought, maybe I was a pedophile in my past life. Maybe I was Michael Jackson.
Come to think of it, that theory makes total sense. I was definitely Michael Jackson. Don’t rule it out because we were alive at the same time. We actually weren’t. The real Michael Jackson died long before I was born. Record labels didn’t want to lose money, so they replaced him with a random white girl. Hence the appearance.
I should have given her my female enhancement coupons.